


Lighthouse

by the_storm_winds



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Deception, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sparkbonds, Sparkmerging, and intense, and possibly jealous, i'm giving myself feelings here, it's not sexual but very much romantic, megatron is manipulative as heck, orion is conflicted, orion is so pure, platonically or not you decide, there's a lot of hugging in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-27 04:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_storm_winds/pseuds/the_storm_winds
Summary: Orion Pax awakens on an unfamiliar planet with no memory of the past 4 million years, where he's told by Megatronus, one of his best friends, that Ratchet, his other best friend, has become an evil tyrant. Except he soon discovers that he's bonded with Ratchet, and how can he be a cold-sparked killer when his spark feels so warm?Already struggling with the conflict between his care for Ratchet and the belief that he's now evil, Orion begins to realize that what he feels through the bond doesn't quite align with Megatron's story.--AKA how Optimus having a sparkbond with Ratchet might have influenced the Orion Pax arc.





	1. Chapter 1

Orion Pax sat on the edge of a berth, alone in a sparse room on a warship on a strange world. The lights glowed steady but dim, casting everything in a gloomy purple hue.

Parts of him were convinced this was all a dream, and that he'd soon wake up from recharge, have his morning energon, and go to work in the archives. He'd said as much to Megatronus—no, Megatron. _“I left my old name behind with my life as a gladiator,”_ he'd said. Megatron had assured him that he was very much awake, and told him to take some time to himself to adjust. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't shake the strange sense of unease that fluttered in his spark like an anxious cyberbird.

His frame was not even his own; he was a good three helms taller, with heavy plating usually preferred by fighters and construction bots, and more extraneous kibble. The latter part was perhaps the oddest; he'd never seen windows quite like this, and these—he touched one of the odd bits sticking up from just inside his pauldron—he couldn't imagine what use they would have in an alt mode.

He checked his chronometer. It read…

No.

That was impossible. He checked again. Had it really been—he verified the math— _over 4800 decavorns?_

 _Everything_ could've changed within that much time. Had he been in stasis? Why? When had he gotten this frame upgrade, and why didn't he remember?

He fidgeted, getting up from the berth and pacing about the room. He needed something to do, a datapad to read, someone to talk to, anything. Normally he enjoyed solitude, but now his processor was generating too many questions he had no way of answering.

There was a knock on his door.

_Thank Primus._

He opened it, revealing a masked purple bot. They stood that way for several nanoklicks, the other bot standing frozen with plating clamped tight.

“Hello?” Orion asked.

“Lord Megatron will see you now,” the bot managed, then stepped aside quickly so Orion could leave the room. “I will show you to him.”

“Thank you,” he said as he followed, hoping to put the other at ease. “What is your name?” He felt a flash of a startled field—one so weak he worried the bot was unwell.

“I am designated V-N7521.”

Oh. He recalled the miners Megatronus had told him of, how he'd been nameless before choosing his own designation. He led these bots, did he not? So why had he not put an end to the issue?

But perhaps this bot was content with his number. It was not his place to pry. “Pleased to meet you, V-N7521.”

V-N7521 didn't seem comfortable speaking, so they passed the rest of walk in silence, even though Orion was bursting with questions.

Megatron met them in the hall. “There you are, Orion.”

He greeted Megatron, then turned to V-N7521. “Thank you,” he repeated, because anyone who was so surprised by those words needed to hear them more. The bot stared at him—presumably; it was hard to tell through the mask—then looked to Megatron, bowed quickly, and scurried away.

“I hope you have been well,” Megatron said, before he had time to wonder at the strange behavior. He gestured for Orion to walk with him.

“I— yes. But I have many questions. Why do I have no memory of thousands of vorns that have passed? Why am I in this unfamiliar frame? Why are we not on Cybertron?”

“You have been in stasis, kept prisoner by the Autobots.”

“Who?”

“Our enemies. We've been at war for quite some time, Orion. Long enough for there to have been a mass exodus from our home world.”

So they were not the only ones to have left. But for it to have gone so far as... “Exodus? Why?”

They came to a stop in a large room, with screens spanning across the front walls. “Because the warlord _Ratchet_ 's careless actions,” Megaton outright spat the name of Orion's other best friend, “led to this.” He gestured to the screen before them just as an image appeared of…

“Cybertron!” he gasped. Their planet was dark, dilapidated… _dead._ Every descriptive passage from every dystopian novel he'd read was put to shame by the sheer magnitude and the _reality_ of the destruction.

Had he said… _Ratchet_ caused this? No… impossible.

“Yes…” Megatron continued, and went on to describe accounts of engineered plagues, mass poisoning, all manner of horrifying superweapons, and—

“Dark energon, yes, it is real. He used it to superpower his warriors, and even went so far as to poison our planet's very core, in attempt to corrupt its energon deposits to provide infinite fuel to his Autobots, while starving us Decepticons.”

Orion had no words. This was... Ratchet. His own dearest, caring and fiercely protective medic, a healer more worthy of the title than any other, who would face down Unicron himself if it meant saving an innocent spark. Orion could not… _would not_ believe him capable of such horrors.

“Yes…” Megatron affirmed, “And to think, the Doctor of Doom's mad quest for power continues.” So this was not even a thing of the past; Ratchet was still a danger. Orion trembled, pulling his field tight since he couldn't keep the hurt from bleeding through. “His marauders pursued us to this planet's orbit. We feel its species are not ready to behold us, but we have resolved to protect this world from the same tragedy which was dealt to our own.”

He clenched his servos. If Ratchet had truly fallen to the dark side, he would do everything in his power to stop him. It was his duty, even more so with what Ratchet had been to him. He _would not fail_ , no matter if it tore his spark in two.

 

* * *

 

Megatron had assigned him the task of decoding the Iacon database, an archive of important information confiscated from the Autobots. The job proved to be more challenging than he'd anticipated. The parts of his processor he used for his archivist work were sluggish and in dire need of debugging, as though they had been disused for vorns—which, he supposed technically they had, but nothing should have changed while he was in stasis. Curious. He set himself a reminder to take care of the issue before he went to recharge. For the time being he could bear the inconvenience.

The doors opened and Megatron entered the room. “Orion, how fares Project Iacon?”

“I am a bit rusty, I fear,” he admitted. “I've only managed to decode the first two entries. They appear to be coordinates, targeting locations on this very planet.” He brought up a holographic map to show him. Megatron walked over to examine it. “I surmise that they might be locations for vessels, shuttled off Cybertron during the war.”

“And what might these vessels contain? Historical documents or cultural artifacts, perhaps?”

He hesitated. “My greatest fear would be weapons of mass destruction, hidden away for later use.” The words felt traitorous as he forced them out.

Megatron was silent for a moment, then responded, “All the more reason it is imperative to keep them out of the hands of the Autobots.” He turned around and approached him, placing a clawed servo on his shoulder. “We are fortunate to have you on our side, Orion Pax.” He turned to leave, but Orion stopped him.

“Lord Megatron?” 

“Yes?”

“About… Ratchet. How did he… What happened? Why did he betray us?”

A pause.

"He… lost himself amid the trials of war. Please, do not concern yourself too much over who he once was.” Before Orion could say more, he walked out, letting the doors close behind him. Reluctantly, Orion turned back to his console to resume decoding.

Not even two klicks later, he was interrupted by the sensation of a familiar field.

“Ratchet?” He turned, optics searching the gloom. No one was there. It was impossible for Ratchet to be aboard the ship. Someone would have noticed. And yet, that had unmistakably been his… No, not quite. It felt like Ratchet, but not like any field he'd ever made contact with. It hadn't brushed over him from the outside; instead it felt almost as though it had come from inside him.

He shuttered his optics, focusing inward. Yes, it was still there. A soft presence within his spark, curling about it like a ghostly embrace.

It seemed to sense his attention, because a burst of emotion surged through suddenly enough that his hydraulics stuttered and he nearly collapsed. He caught himself on the console, fans whirring hard. There was so… so much _love,_ love and worry and care, and it felt so much like _Ratchet._ He let his optics shutter, basking in the warmth. A smile crept onto his faceplates. Ratchet _loved him._ And this… this was…

He onlined his optics with a start as the realization hit him.

He and Ratchet were sparkbonded.

It was the only conclusion that made sense. He didn't have any real precedent for comparison, having never experienced merging his spark with another, but he'd read enough descriptions to know theoretically how it would feel.

He and Ratchet were really… Joy swelled within him before he could think twice. There had been times when their friendship seemed to wander into the territory of something a bit more, but Orion had never pushed, opting to let the relationship progress naturally rather than risk scaring the other off. To learn they had come so far, and Ratchet's feelings ran so deep…

But this wasn't the happily ever after it should've been. Ratchet was the Autobot warlord. A danger to them all. _A killer._

Had Orion known? Had he bonded with Ratchet while knowing or even _suspecting_ what he was, what he would become? Or had the darkness taken hold later? If it had, evidently he had failed to prevent it.

_Could I not save him from himself?_

Now, more than ever, he _had_ to know what had transpired in the time he'd missed. Why couldn't he remember? Stasis was one thing, but clearly a great deal was missing. Had… had the Autobots performed mnemosurgery on him? _Why?_ Such a thing could not erase a sparkbond, so what was the point? It was just needlessly cruel. Bonding with Ratchet, betrayal or no—surely that was a memory he would have wanted to keep.

His bond (and that was still a surreal thought) was swelling with warmth and comfort, the present Ratchet evidently sensing his distress. He wanted so badly to lose himself in it, wrap himself all that was Ratchet—but... no. He couldn't. Not with who he was now. Ratchet was not his friend… not anymore. He walled himself off, clamping down on the bond like an unwanted emotion. He couldn't make it go away, but it did feel fainter. That was a victory, he supposed, though it didn't stop it from tasting bitter. 

 

* * *

 

By the time the evening shift arrived, Orion's control was already wavering. He could feel Ratchet worrying, a constant thrum of anxiety that made it difficult to concentrate. There was also an occasional pulling sensation, like he was reaching for him, trying to breach his barriers and bring him close.

Orion redoubled his resistance. He couldn't allow himself to fall under the medic's spell.

The things Megatron told him didn't feel _real_ enough. Parts of him still wanted to believe this was all a dream, and that any moment he would wake up back on Cybertron and his Ratchet would be there, not bonded to him but not lost to his own darkness either.

The only part of any of this that truly did feel real was the bond itself. It was Ratchet's spark he felt, no mistake. And sparks didn't lie. Did they?

What was going on?

He had to find more information. His project was too important to put aside for personal research, but that didn't mean he couldn't dedicate some time to it before he went to recharge. Staying up researching late into the night was nothing new to him. He _had_ to know more. He couldn't just go on wondering about this, what could lead his friend, his… his _sparkmate_... to go to such horrifying extremes. Perhaps the ship's logs would hold some clue, anything to settle the unease in his spark.

Once he'd reached a good stopping point in his decoding, he dug out the Decepticons’ historical records. He didn't expect the warship would have everything in as full detail as Megatron would be able to tell him, but his friend was likely busy, and he should at least be able to find out the basics this way. He entered a search query for Ratchet's name.

His image appeared. His frame was much the same as Orion remembered, with only minor external shifts that suggested he'd taken a new alt mode—an updated design, perhaps. This came as somewhat of a surprise to Orion; he'd expected him to be… larger? Scarier? But this was the same Ratchet he'd met at the archives, supported through advanced medical exams, talked and laughed with at cafes until the owners came by to remind them of closing time…

He was getting distracted. He dismissed those thoughts from his processor and moved on to see what description was written about Ratchet.

 _Ratchet. Autobot leader._ _Medic._

And that was… all. The information on him was astoundingly incomplete. The Decepticon archive was no Hall of Records, but surely there would be _some_ reference to the such an important figure as the warlord responsible for Cybertron’s destruction.

He scanned the data again. It really was blank—no, wait, there was something. Encrypted data, invisible to the untrained observer. Why was there need for so much security? Surely this should be common knowledge to most. With growing curiosity, he set about working through the encryptions.

_Ratchet. Autobot medic._

_Serves under: Optimus Prime._

That… didn't make sense. Megatron had said Ratchet was the Autobot leader. He'd made no mention of any Optimus Prime.

Entering another search within the new data, he found a list of entries tagged with Ratchet's name. Many referenced either battles or medical facilities, which came as little surprise. He’d just expanded an entry containing both (Air Raid: Polyhex Central Medical Center) when a message appeared in his inbox. The name tag on it surprised him—he wouldn't have expected a message from Soundwave, particularly after hours.

::Lord Megatron wishes your presence.::

Ah. Soundwave had often had a tendency of taking care of things for Megatronus without the latter having to ask; perhaps he was doing the same now. That was sweet of him.

He replied with a thank you to Soundwave and shut down his console, then set off down the hall to find Megatron. Soundwave hadn't specified whether he needed him for something important or simply wanted his company, but he could not help but hope for the latter. This could finally be a chance to catch up on things he missed, learn answers to some of his many questions, and spend time in the company of his friend.

 

* * *

 

Megatron's quarters were sizeable compared to some of the other rooms on the ship, but sparsely furnished, with only a berth, a private computer station, and a table with two chairs. Although, Orion realized, after millennia of war, he no longer knew what the standard was.

“Good evening, my friend. Soundwave informed me you would be stopping by. Please, sit.” He gestured to the table, where two energon cubes were already set out.

“I trust your project is going well?” Megatron asked once they were settled.

“I'm afraid I’ve only been able to decode one further entry since our last conversation. Apologies, I have been… distracted.”

“Decoding this database so that we may keep its contents out of Autobot hands _must_ be your top priority.”

“It is,” he assured. “But I simply cannot work to my full capacity while my processor is plagued with wondering why Ratchet has resorted to such vile actions. What led him to… become what you say he is?”

“I already told you, Orion. I cannot claim to understand what goes through the Autobot warlord's processor. I only know his violence must be stopped.”

“But I know him. He wouldn't…” he stopped that thought, knowing it wouldn't get him anywhere with Megatron. “If I only had more details, perhaps I could deduce—”

“It does not matter,” Megatron interrupted. “He is a tyrant, a war criminal. He will destroy anyone who gets in his way.”

“Then, at least, tell me when his violence started. How long after he and I became…” he trailed off, staring down at the table and lightly touching his chestplates. Ratchet was anxious still, as he had hardly ceased to be since Orion had noticed the bond. _Anxious about me?_

Megatron was watching him intently, tilting his head in that way he did when he was intrigued by something. He narrowed his optics. “After you and he became what?”

Orion ran a full vent cycle. He still wasn't fully adjusted to this concept. “There is...” He paused to reset his vocalizer. “There is a second reason for my distraction. While I was working I felt… something. Like an EM field, but… different.” That comparison still felt inadequate, but he could think of nothing better. “More intimate. And it seemed to come from my own spark.”

Megatron's field bled dubiousness. “That is where your EM field originates,” he pointed out.

“No, not my own,” Orion corrected. “It was Ratchet—I _felt_ Ratchet there with me. I think it can only be…” He hesitated. “I believe—” He reset his vocalizer once more. No time for shyness. Private as he preferred to keep this, it was important information, and there were few he trusted more than Megatron. He tightened the hand over his spark into a fist and met the other's gaze. “Ratchet and I are bonded.”

Megatron's optics widened. His field whipped back out of reach, and his servo tightened around his energon cube until Orion feared he would crush it. His intake opened, but no sound came out.

The silence between them seemed to vibrate. Orion broke eye contact, wondering if he'd made a mistake. “At least, that seems the most reasonable conclusion. I've no memory of forming the bond, but…” He looked back up. “I felt him. I still feel him. His presence, his emotions.” He leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table with both servos. “Megatron, please, I must know. When did he change? _Who am I bonded to?_ ”

Megatron recovered enough from his shock to respond. “I was… not aware of this development. But this may explain his, ah, _preoccupation_ with you,” he said the word with a distaste that bothered Orion, as though Ratchet had personally offended him. It bothered him still more that he couldn't be certain Ratchet _hadn't._

Megaton continued, “He most likely kept you in stasis because this... bond would prevent him from harming you, as was the tragic fate of many of the Autobots’ other prisoners.”

He cycled a shaky vent. _Ratchet, is this true?_ He willed him to answer, but there was no response. If the bond was capable of sharing conscious thought, he hadn't yet figured out how to do it.

But… he didn't need a response to know the answer. He'd felt the other's feelings. It was more than the bond that prevented Ratchet from hurting him.

“We can talk to him,” Orion urged. “Reason with him. Now that I am awake, we can arrange a meeting. He may listen to me.”

“No!” Megatron rose slightly from his seat, flaring his plating and speaking with enough volume that Orion flinched. He composed himself an instant later, sitting back down and letting his plating settle. “It is too dangerous. I will not have you be caught in an Autobot trap.”

“You can protect me.”

“It would only be a meaningless risk. Ratchet is mad with power. He will not see reason.”

“But if I—”

“Orion,” Megatron interrupted, “I fear you are allowing your emotions to cloud your judgement.”

He didn't have a response to that. Perhaps Megatron was right; his closeness to Ratchet certainly did have influence. But he _knew_ him. _And it can't be that I don't know him as well as I thought I did, because I can feel him, right here and now._ Even when he tried to block it out, Ratchet's presence was always there. And what he felt simply did not line up with the deceitful warlord gone mad with power Megatron described.

Megatron stood and began walking around the table. “I understand this must be difficult for you, being betrayed by someone—” he paused, and his optics bored into Orion “— _close_ to you.” He stopped beside Orion's chair. “But innocent lives are at stake. We cannot afford to lose focus.” His field was still hidden, but he used his height and proximity to loom over the other and add force to his words. Orion shifted backwards and made to stand as well, but Megaton stepped away, half turning. “Finish your energon, then get some rest. You'll need to be at your full strength to make up for lost time on Project Iacon.” Then he walked out of the room, leaving Orion alone with the two half empty cubes and his thoughts.

He stared into the blue swirls of his energon, attention drifting back to his bond. It felt… He shut his optics against the sudden ache. It made him want to curl up into himself, to shut out the world, made him want his bondmate to hold him and tell him it would all be okay and to never let go. _This is what he's feeling now,_ Orion realized with a pang of guilt. _All this time he's been reaching out to me,_ _and I keep rejecting him._

The things Megatron said he'd done horrified and repulsed him. He could never support anyone who did such things. Yet, he didn't want to hurt Ratchet either.

 _I'm sorry,_ he thought. _I'm sorry I couldn't save you._ Then, since that wouldn't be enough for Ratchet to hear him, he concentrated on feeling it, deep in his spark, opening up to the bond and pushing it through.

The response was instantaneous. He could almost feel his friend there with him, pulling him close and holding him tight. He let himself give in to it, just a little, just this once.

“Ratchet…” he whispered aloud. “Ratchet, why?” Why couldn't things be as they were? Why couldn't he have stayed with of him and Megatronus? The three of them, they could've done so much good together. He didn't want to have to fight him. He just… he just wanted…  

He was jolted back to reality by the feeling of liquid on his servo, and realized belatedly that he’d crushed his energon cube.

He should probably return to his own quarters, he realized. Megaton would need this room to recharge soon. He wasn't sure what to do about the mess he'd made, though; he'd have to ask one of the purple bots—vehicons, he'd learned they were called—on his way out. There were quite a lot of them around. And all identical… it was disturbing. _There is so much Cybertronian history I'm ignorant of. How am I supposed to help bring light to this darkness if I can't see past my own servos?_

 

* * *

 

After the morning shift of the next solar cycle, Orion allowed himself a break from decoding to continue his historical research. He was still dissatisfied with the conclusion of his conversation with Megatron. He needed the details of Ratchet's actions, the context, _proof._ He couldn't keep blindly accepting another's judgment on him, not even Megatron's. He would've granted Megatron the same benefit of the doubt had his two best friends’ positions been reversed.

He returned to the same search he'd started the previous night before Soundwave's message interrupted him, and selected an entry.

It was… blank.

Orion furrowed his brow, frowning. He checked the source code, looking for signs of additional encryption. There wasn't much to look at, just the title and date, Ratchet's designation code along with those of a few other bots, and the location coordinate range. He read through it all again, just to make sure. Nothing. If there had ever been real data there, it had been outright deleted.

He scanned through the next few entries, with the same results. The titles and identifiers were there, but no content.

Something was not right about this. The entries were _there;_ someone must've written in them at some point. Was there a reason for them hiding their history? He frowned, disquieted. Was there anything here that could help him? He typed in another query.

_Optimus Prime. Former Autobot leader._

That could explain what he'd seen; perhaps they'd simply neglected to update Ratchet's entry. That would be the least of the oddities about all this.

Before returning to his work, he looked up one more bot.

_Orion Pax._

_No entries found._

He… didn't exist. It wasn't that surprising, considering that that he'd been in stasis, possibly since the start of the war, but there was still an acute disappointment. He'd hoped to find something, anything that might give a clue to what happened to him.

Sighing, he reopened the Iacon database. It was tedious work, and no longer something he was certain he believed in. If the coordinates did lead to weapons, was Megatron's goal truly to keep them out of the hands of the Autobots? Or did he intend to use them to against them? He believed in Megatron's ideals, but his proposed methods for execution had sometimes tended towards extremes. _I will try to talk to him about it later,_ he decided.

 

* * *

 

Ratchet was experiencing a maelstrom of emotions, cycling through hope, anxiety, determination, fear—something big was going down. Orion wanted to support him, encourage him through the bond, but… He shuttered his optics. _I still don't know if I want him to succeed._

He tried his best to block it out and keep working, but maintaining focus proved to be difficult. He worried about Ratchet's wellbeing just as much as he worried about what he might be doing. That much desperation didn't seem indicative of harming others. If he still knew Ratchet, this was him fighting to save someone he cared about.

Eventually the storm in his spark ebbed and was replaced by a steady flare of hope and relief. His frame sagged as his cables released tension he didn't know they'd been holding.

Not a klick later, an enraged roar echoed through the ship. _Scrap._ He turned off his console screen and left his workroom in search of the sound's source—there, a few doors down, he could hear Megatron pacing and ranting furiously.

“—escaped with it! I cannot believe they used the _human_. We must get ri—” he cut off suddenly, and the doors opened, revealing Megatron and Soundwave, both looking directly at him. The latter must've alerted the former to his presence behind the door, Orion realized.

He entered the room. “Lord Megatron, what happened?” he asked. Ratchet had gained a victory, that much he knew. _Please, tell me it wasn't something terrible._

“The Autobots,” Megatron said through clenched teeth, “have acquired a dangerous weapon.”

That didn't quite add up. “What sort of weapon?” 

Megatron didn't answer, instead resuming pacing about the room. Orion waited for him to calm down and speak.

“Orion.” He stopped and approached him. “I fear for your safety should they ever find their way aboard this ship. I have reason to believe they may wish to abduct you once more. Do not fall for their tricks.” With that, he continued past him and exited the room.

Orion looked at Soundwave. Soundwave looked back for a few nanoklicks, then turned away and busied himself at a computer.

“Right, I… suppose I'll go back to work then,” he said to Soundwave's back.

 

* * *

 

Orion was on the verge of decoding another entry when he was interrupted by the sound of the doors behind him sliding open. He turned just in time to glimpse a flash of blue zipping into a shadow by the wall. The bot started upon seeing him, then, before he had time to react, rolled and crouched underneath his console.

“Please, I just want to talk,” she spoke in an urgent half-whisper.

Orion blinked, startled. She looked familiar—yes, she was one of the three Autobots Megatron had rescued him from.

Running footsteps echoed from the hall.

“ _Scrap,_ ” the bot muttered, then looked back up at him. “I'm sending you the line for our base and our personal commlinks”—A wireless databurst appeared in his inbox as she spoke—“They'll only work outside the security of this ship. I know you don't trust us right now but please, we need you to hear us out.” Then she was back out the door as fast as she had come in.

This had a high potential of being a trap, Orion realized. However, it was also a perfect opportunity—he could hear the other side of the story and learn the answers to many of his questions. And if there was any chance Ratchet could be convinced to turn back to the side of good, if he could get through to him, to all the Autobots—it would be well worth the risk. Perhaps it could lead to peace meetings, and the beginning of the end of the war.

It was regrettable that Megatron had been so adamantly against even considering such a thing. Perhaps he had been at war too long, and his judgement had been clouded. But if Orion could reach an agreement with the Autobots, he'd have a better chance of convincing Megatron to talk to them as well.

Every being deserved a second chance. No matter what they had done in the past, if they were willing to change, to atone, they deserved to be given the opportunity to do so. Orion believed with all his spark that the Ratchet he’d known was not gone, and that that part in him would indeed be willing.

He placed his hand over his spark, smiling. _My proof of that is right here. My dearest Ratchet. I will forgive you._


	2. Chapter 2

Unfortunately, getting off the ship in secret was easier said than done. He found and downloaded a blueprint map of the ship, noting the location of what they called a “ground bridge.” As he wasn't a flight frame, that would be his only way off. It wasn't too far from his workroom; the issue would be getting past the many vehicon guards surveying the area.

His opportunity came sooner than he expected. A joor before the start of the evening shift, the blare of an alarm startled him from his work. Realizing this could be just the distraction he needed, he dropped what he was doing and hurried to the doorway.

And nearly collided with a stack of energon cubes.

 _“AIIEEEEE!”_ the bot carrying them shrieked, fumbling and dropping two. “Optimus Prime?!”

Wait, what? This bot—a slender gray seeker that he soon recognized from his research as Starscream, Megatron's second-in-command—thought he was the Autobots’ former leader? They had similar frame types, yes, but not so similar as to warrant mistaking him for the other.

Before he could compose himself enough to respond, the footsteps of running guards approached.

Starscream looked in their direction, then back at Orion. “Ah well, you can hold them off. So long!” he said, and hurried off with the remainder of his cubes, in the same direction Orion needed to take. Orion hesitated for only a moment before running after him.

He reached the room with the ground bridge just in time to see Starscream disappear through the swirling green portal. Two vehicons lay on the floor. _Dead._ Orion stared in shock. Wisps of smoke drifted up from gaping holes in their frames. Starscream _killed_ them? But… he was a Decepticon too…

The sound of the guards getting closer jolted him back to the present. Silently apologizing, he stepped around the lifeless frames and ran into the portal.

He emerged in an organic forest, thick with small trees and soft shrubbery. He could just hear the _crunch crunch_ of Starscream fleeing into the distance. Knowing he didn't have more than a few nanoklicks to get out of sight, he turned and ran at top speed in the opposite direction. Primus, he was _fast_ with these long legs.

He found an outcropping of rocks large enough to hide him and crouched behind it, disabling his fans and dialing up his audial sensors. The vehicons were coming through the ground bridge. They moved about, talking to one another, then ran off—away from him, after Starscream.

Once he could no longer hear them, he got up and resumed running. He doubted that the vehicons would return to the location they'd bridged to after catching or giving up on Starscream, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He could just send a comm with his coordinates when he was ready to return.

When he was satisfied with the distance he'd put between them, he stopped and pulled up the comm code for the Autobot base. He ran a vent cycle to calm his racing spark, reminding himself that he'd decided this was worth the risk.

He dialed the number. “Hello?”

“Op— Orion!” Ratchet's voice answered. Orion's spark swooped when he heard him. The medic laughed. “Thank Primus you're all right!”

“Ratchet!”

“Are there Decepticons with you?”

“No. I snuck out,” he answered honestly. _I probably shouldn't have told him that,_ he realized. Not trusting Ratchet went against his every instinct.

“Oh, good. Hang on a klick, I'm going to bridge to your location,” Ratchet said, then disconnected the call before Orion had a chance to reply.

Scrap, he hadn't considered how easily the Autobots might be able to track him. He prepared messages on Megatron and Soundwave's commlines to send through in case of an ambush.

A ground bridge portal identical to the one he'd taken opened a short distance away. Orion stiffened, poised to transform and flee if necessary. Ratchet stepped through… alone.

He froze when he saw Orion. Several nanoklicks stretched long between them. Ratchet's optics flitted across his frame, taking in his defensive posture. There was a flicker of something pained through the bond, but it was overshadowed by a relief so strong it made his joints go weak.

 _I still have to be cautious,_ he reminded himself.

Slowly, Ratchet bowed his helm and held up his servos in surrender. “I'm not going to do anything,” he said. “I don't know what Megatron has been telling you, but it's not true.”

Orion hesitated. He hadn't been prepared for Ratchet to outright deny Megatron's accusations before he'd even had a chance to mention them.

Ratchet smiled ruefully. “And I don't expect you'll believe me easily either. I felt you trying to shut me out.” Orion winced. He'd thought as much, but hearing it made him feel guilty nonetheless.

Ratchet lowered his servos and took a few careful steps closer. “You're our leader, Orion. You're now known as Optimus Prime.”

“What?” Orion relaxed his stance. That was far from anything he'd expected to hear, and… Starscream had called him by that name also.

“You used the Matrix of Leadership to seal away Unicron, and lost your memories along with it.” He grimaced. “I realize how ridiculous that sounds.”

Orion could only stare, dumbfounded. What he was saying was so far fetched that he almost had to believe it. The Ratchet he knew was a sceptic, trusting science first and giving little thought to mythology.

“You're no Decepticon. They're violent and ruthless, Megatron most of all. They're determined to conquer this planet with no regard for its innocent population.” He stepped forward, holding out a servo. “Come back with me, please.”

“I…” He looked at the servo, wanting to take it. He could feel Ratchet's sincerity. But to follow him through a ground bridge to an unknown location, after all of Megatron's warnings about this precise situation… It was far too sudden. He'd been doubting Megatron's motives, suspecting that what he'd said wasn't the whole truth, but… would he really outright _lie?_

“I don't know yet if I can trust you. I am sorry.”

Ratchet lowered his arm, outwardly stoic but hurt seeping through the bond. “In that case—” he flipped open a panel on his forearm and pulled out an orange transfer cable—“will you allow me to show you?”

Orion hesitated. This could also be risky. But he was offering to let him into his mind, something he wouldn't be so willing to do if he had anything to hide. And the opportunity to find out what happened in the vorns he'd missed far too good to pass up.

He nodded, and searched for the protocols that would open his forearm panel. And searched… and felt for it with his servo. He _had_ one, didn't he?

Ratchet reached forward and pressed the manual release, amusement flickering in his field. Orion looked down at his arm sheepishly, noting with interest that Ratchet knew his frame much better than he did. He took the cable, but Ratchet stopped him before he could plug it in.

“This will not be pleasant,” he warned. “Are you certain you want to do it this way?”

“I'm certain. I need to see the truth for myself.”

Ratchet nodded, and he inserted the cable. Their processors linked together with a slight tickling sensation.

Ratchet stayed out of his drives, although he'd still see his active thoughts without trying, trepidations and recollections of Megatron's words included. Sure enough, there was a recoil, followed by a string of expletives directed at his other friend. That all but confirmed that Megatron's claims were… not entirely true. He sent a burst of reassurance to Ratchet. _I'm here to hear you out._

He could see Ratchet's active thoughts, too. He was worried for his safety, afraid the Decepticons would find them, that Megatron would hurt him.

Surely Megatron wouldn't…  

 _About that,_ Ratchet thought at him. He guided him to a string of linked memories. _I'm sorry for this, but it's important._ Orion sent an acknowledgement, and they activated them together.

_Video reports on terrorist attacks. Megatron denying connection to them._

_Himself, in the frame he remembered, standing before the council, presenting his plans for Megatron’s visions. The council decreeing that he would lead them, as Optimus Prime._

_Proof that Megatron was inciting the terrorist attacks._

A seed of horror took root in Orion's spark. No… he wouldn't.

Ratchet pulsed a soothing frequency through field and bond alike. _I know._ _I'm sorry._

_The Decepticons storming the building. Chaos, blaster fire, death._

Orion trembled. _No…_

_Himself, pleading, no more violence. Megatron making his escape._

Ratchet reached up with his untethered servo and gave his upper arm—the highest he could comfortably reach—a comforting squeeze. Suddenly hating his increased height, Orion dropped to one knee, pulling Ratchet close and letting the other embrace him, an anchor to hold him steady.

 _Do you want to stop?_ Ratchet asked.

 _No,_ he responded. _I need to see this._

More scenes flashed by. _The war, devastation, bots brutally murdered by the Decepticons. Dark energon turning them to an unstoppable army._

_Frantically working to stabilize a yellow bot with the lower half of his face in ruins._

_Himself, standing determined. “I am going to Cybertron's core, where I hope to find the cause of this illness that has befallen our planet and reverse it.”_

_A spark chamber—his own—bearing the Matrix of Leadership. Ratchet's reverent voice. “You are truly a Prime now.”_

_Escaping to space. Seas of dead bots on foreign planets._

_Crash landing. Salvaging what they could from the ruins of their ship. Disguising themselves, going into hiding._

_More dark energon, Megatron using it to raise undead warriors all around them._

_Storms, natural disasters, a prophecy. A terrifying voice, like a legion speaking as one. “Disciple of Primus, your end is here.”_

_Declaring his intent to use the Matrix to send Unicron back into slumber. Preparing for a battle that would likely be their end._

Orion's processor was spinning when it finished. Ratchet disconnected them, retracting his cable.

“Are you all right?”

“I…” His voice crackled with static. He reset his vocalizer. “I cannot believe Megatron would…” He trailed off, not really wanting to think about the images he'd seen just yet. “I'm really… Optimus Prime?” The name felt strange in his vocalizer. He was only an archivist; he wasn't worthy of such a title.

“You are,” Ratchet responded, almost as though he'd heard his thoughts. “Come back with me,” he said again. “The team needs you.”

“But I am no Prime. At least… not anymore.”

“We've obtained a means to restore you. Vector Sigma.” Ratchet pulled him closer and leaned their forehelms together. “You’re our family, Orion. Optimus.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I need you.”

Orion's vents stuttered as affection swelled in his spark, and he was overcome with an urge to kiss the medic. Ratchet must've sensed it, because he smiled gently and cupped his helm.

“Orion!” a familiar voice roared from above the treetops. The ground shook as Megatron dropped through the treetops and landed, jolting them apart. “Step away from the Autobot. He is tricking you.”

“Oh, scrap,” Ratchet hissed, then shouted into his commlink, "We need a ground bridge, now!”

Orion stood, placing himself between the two of them. “I believe he is not, Megatron. He showed me the truth of what you've done. I know where my sympathies lie.”

“Orion, we need to leave, now.” Ratchet grabbed his servo and tugged him towards the swirling portal as Megatron's footsteps thundered closer, and there was a sound that could only be a blaster charging—

Then the portal closed behind them and Megatron was gone.

 

* * *

 

They emerged into a high-ceilinged, industrial-looking room. Cybertronian monitors were were plugged into odd miniature computer boxes. In the center was a cut stone platform, with ladders and steps clearly meant for a much smaller species.

The same three bots from before all looked up from their places throughout the room as they entered, and dropped what they were doing to crowd around him.

“Optimus?”

“Optimus!”

“Optimus is back!”

“I suppose that is, or was, me...” he said, glancing at Ratchet for confirmation. Ratchet gave him a nod. Still, the idea that he was a _Prime_ was… well, he wasn't sure what he thought of it. He felt as though his entire world had been turned upside down for the second time in the span of a few solar cycles, and he couldn't keep his balance.

“So what was it like being with the Decepticons?” an excited voice sounded from… beneath him? “Were they mean? Did they do creepy magic to brainwash you?” He peered down and saw a tiny, squishy organic creature, bouncing up and down as it pelted him with questions. Two others walked up to join the first, although they were quieter.

Orion lowered himself to one knee to tower over them less. “I presume you are this planet's native life forms?”

The three of them froze, and he feared he'd offended them.

“He really doesn't remember us,” the smallest one said.

The loud one, who'd looked disappointed for a moment, perked up again. “Oh well, guess we'd better introduce ourselves. I'm Miko!”

“Jack,” said the one who hadn't spoken yet.

“Raf,” said the small one.

“I am Orion Pax.” He held out a servo and let them grip his finger one by one.

Ratchet huffed amusedly. “Any injuries?” he addressed the other three bots.

“A few dents and scrapes, nothing serious,” the blue one replied. “Bumblebee's speed really saved the day.”

«I just knew I couldn't let the relic fall into Megatron's hands,» the yellow one— Bumblebee—beeped in binary code, looking down and rubbing a servo behind his helm. Oh… he was that poor scout with the torn-out voicebox from Ratchet's memory.

Wait, relic? His spark grew heavy with dread.

“Orion?” Ratchet asked.

He got back to his feet. “I decoded four sets of coordinates from the Iacon database while I was with the Decepticons,” he admitted. “This is my fault.”

“Megatron took advantage of your amnesia. You're not to blame, Orion. And we've managed to retrieve this one; we'll simply have to do the same for the other four.”

«And that should be no problem now that we have you back,» Bumblebee said.

“You're not going to believe how tough it's been without you here,” the blue bot said.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Jack asked. “Let's give him the key.”

“I…” Orion glanced between them all. “I am still not sure that I…” He'd seen and heard himself in the memories Ratchet had shown him, yes, but he still didn't _remember_. Could he really handle such a responsibility?

Ratchet came to his rescue. “Give him some space,” he said, stepping forward and gesturing to the others to back up. “Orion Pax has been through a lot over the past few days and needs to rest. The key will still be here tomorrow morning.”

“But—”

“He _needs time_.” His tone was firm and permitted no argument. Fondness swelled in Orion—this was the medic he knew and loved. Ratchet looked back at him, expression softening into a smile, and by Primus, Orion could've melted into a molten puddle right there. Oh how he'd _missed_ him.

The feeling was very mutual; he could feel Ratchet's spark pulling at him, the bond overflowing with his relief and joy and _need_ , and his own spark responded in kind. Suddenly the prospect of being apart from Ratchet for even a nanoklick longer seemed unbearable. He wanted to hold him close, to kiss him, to, to— There was an aborted whir as he manually disabled his cooling fans just a fraction too slow. Ratchet _smirked_ at him. _Primus below, what have I missed?_

"So, uh,” the green Autobot spoke up, and Orion realized with embarrassment that he'd already forgotten the others were there. “I suppose we should properly introduce ourselves. I'm Bulkhead.” He held out his servo, and Orion shook it.

“Pleased to meet you, Bulkhead.” Luckily none of the three seemed to have noticed his slip-up. Bumblebee and the blue bot—Arcee—introduced themselves in a similar vein, and Orion greeted each in turn.

Miko clambered up onto Bulkhead's pede. “You didn't tell me, what was it like living with Megatron? He didn't hurt you, did he? I swear I'll kill him if he did,” she exclaimed, miming a punch.

“I…” He shuttered his optics. “I thought he was my friend,” he answered. “But apparently that is not the case.” He pulled his field in tight so as not to disturb the others with the hurt he couldn't keep from entering it.

Ratchet put a servo on his arm. “I can show you to your quarters, if you like. You've had a long day.”

Orion met his gaze, understanding. “Yes, thank you.”

“Awwww,” Miko complained. “It's not even late.”

"He needs some alone time. Arcee, you're in charge. Make sure someone keeps an eye on the monitor.”

Arcee raised an optical ridge, but didn't argue. “Got it.”

“How come Ratchet gets to stay with Orion during his ‘alone time?’” Miko crossed her arms and glared at the medic. “Just because Orion remembers him doesn't make him more special.”

Bumblebee beeped a response, which Raf translated to the other humans. “Bee says having someone familiar around might help him adjust to his new surroundings.”

“The two of them are old friends,” Jack added. So it seemed that the rest of the group didn't know of their relationship.

Ratchet entered a few commands into the computer, then turned back to Orion. “Come with me.”

 

* * *

 

Orion had thought Megatron's quarters were sparsely furnished, but his own were even more so. The room held only a berth and a desk, the latter of which looked to have been built from scrap metal. But on it were neat stacks of datapads, and a small crystal he remembered receiving as a gift from Alpha Trion.

Ratchet entered after him and shut the door. “Are you all right?”

Orion didn't respond immediately. He walked to the berth and sat, staring down at the floor. Ratchet approached him and put a servo on his pauldron. He was grateful for his presence, the contact grounding him amid his storming thoughts.

“I trusted him,” he said finally.

“I'm sorry,” Ratchet said. “I know the two of you were close, and you shouldn’t have had to go through that again.”

Orion shook his helm. “No… I needed the truth.” He looked up at Ratchet. “Thank you.”

Ratchet gave him a weak smile.

“He accused you of all those things you showed me,” Orion admitted. “I… didn't want to believe it. I think part of me never really did.” He picked up Ratchet's free servo and held it loosely while he spoke. “I don't want to believe he did them either, but…” He shut his optics. “I can't deny what you showed me. And it's more than just that, I… somehow… I can feel that it's true, if that makes sense.”

“Well… you were there.” Ratchet squeezed his servo. “Perhaps the Matrix left some trace of the memory behind. It couldn’t have been a very clean break, since it seems to have taken memories from well before you received it.”

“Perhaps…” he trailed off, letting his gaze drop to the floor. “Just… why did he do it?” He looked up at Ratchet, feeling almost as helpless as when he'd first awoken on this strange planet. “What has he become? Ratchet, _I knew him._ His ideals, his words… They opened my optics for the first time. I was _blind_ before I met him.”

“Orion…” Ratchet's spark reached out to his, echoing his sorrow with understanding. He stepped forward, slipping his servo out of Orion's so he could wrap his arms around him instead. Orion held him tight, soaking in his warmth and letting himself be comforted.

“Do you think there's hope,” he asked, hardly above a whisper, “that we could still change his mind?”

“You've tried, Orion. For all those vorns, you tried.”

He'd known that too, somehow. Perhaps it was simply the logical conclusion—if he’d been anything like himself as a Prime, he would've tried.

Ratchet rubbed soothing circles up and down his back plating. He relaxed into the touch, sending appreciative vibrations back through his field. This newfound intimacy was the one bright thing—a silver lining amidst the dark storm his world had become. The mech here in his arms was his _bondmate._ And that was no longer a bittersweet thought; he was still his Ratchet, his best friend.

He slid backwards on the berth and pulled Ratchet up onto his lap, facing him. How long he'd wanted to do this… Ratchet pressed a kiss to his audial and he shivered.

“I missed you, Ratchet,” he said. “I'm glad the things Megatron said about you were not true.” He buried his face in the gap between his helm and pauldron. “I thought I had lost you.”

Ratchet sent a thick pulse of affection through his field. “I never left your side.”

Orion's vents stalled as emotion choked him, and he tightened his grip on the other even more. He couldn't hold him close enough. He… he needed…

“Easy,” Ratchet laughed. “You're going to dent me.” He pulled back, and reluctantly Orion let go, settling his servos on his waist instead. The medic cupped the side of his helm, smiling. “Like this,” he said, and folded away his chestplates.

Anything Orion might've said was forgotten as his spark was revealed. A million colors of pure light danced and shimmered, glowing in hues of red-orange, reminiscent of a flame but _alive_. Little lightning-streaks of deep blue flared in and out, a complimentary accompaniment to the fiery tones.

His own spark surged with a longing so strong it felt as though it would leap out of his chest. Ratchet placed a servo over his center seam. _“It's all right,”_ he whispered.

Orion followed his lead, letting his plating fold aside. He couldn't see his own spark, but brilliant blues reflected off Ratchet's plating, shifting like sunlight through a calm sea.

The beauty of the scene ached. Ratchet smiled up at him, bathed in the light of their sparks, platelets around his optics crinkled with pure affection. The last traces of Orion's uncertainty melted away and he wrapped his arms around him, bringing their chests together.

Their coronae touched first, outer magnetic streams weaving together in way that was almost teasing, and he could feel his own anticipation reflected back to him. A shiver went up his backstrut and spread through his entire frame. _Primus_ he loved Ratchet, loved him so much he felt he would burst. Too shaken to speak, he leaned his helm forward to kiss him. Ratchet met him halfway, moaning softly as their lip plates molded together.

They pushed closer and he felt a heat, threads of Ratchet's spark swirling around and _through_ his, pulling him in and filling him with sensations of safety and warmth and _home_. He belonged here; he may have forgotten but his spark remembered. Nothing could take that from him. He broke the kiss and sobbed against Ratchet's intake. He could feel him inside and out, like he'd felt through the bond but a thousand times _more_ , love seeping through his frame and saturating every molecule of his being.

All the wounds between them from the past solar cycles were laid bare and raw. Ratchet was aching where he'd missed him, feared for him, helplessness resurfacing from when he'd tried and failed to bring him back.

 _You tried and succeeded,_ Orion reminded him. _It's okay now; I'm here._

Orion meanwhile held a heavy guilt, that in the whirlwind of confusion and hurt and betrayal he'd experienced on board the _Nemesis_ he'd _doubted_ Ratchet, shut him out, hurt him more than he was hurting already. Ratchet saw and understood, melting it away in the warmth of his forgiveness.

The rest he couldn't heal—what Megatron had done, the loss of his world in the blink of an optic—but he twined in around him, shouldered the weight, and they were stronger together.

Then their cores touched, and every boundary between them dissolved in supernova brightness. They spun in step, matching frequencies, like two stars orbiting closer and closer and closer until—

They were perfectly aligned.

One being.

In that instant the intensity came full circle, culminating in a sensation of deep peace. This was _right._ He _was_ Ratchet, and Ratchet was him. He could feel all his memories as he'd felt them, see himself as Ratchet saw him. And he could feel what he'd shared with Ratchet in all their past merges.

As Optimus Prime.

There was no shock or sudden revelation, only a knowing of what he'd known all along, because he was Ratchet and Ratchet was Optimus. They simply _existed_ , resonating outside of time and space. He was distantly aware of their shared frames, locked in a tight embrace, rays of pure white light shining through the gaps in their plating.

They might have stayed that way for a klick or a joor, Orion couldn't say. But gradually they began to separate, each finding their own identity once more, like newsparks emerging from the Well. He felt a faint sense of loss as Ratchet's spark split from his, but it was short lived. He could feel him still, through the bond. They would never have to be apart.

They both closed their chestplates, spark chambers tucked away under protective armor once more.

Ratchet ran his thumb over Orion's cheek plate. “I couldn't let you go another solar cycle with no memory of what it's like to experience that.”

Orion shuttered his optics and said the only thing he could in that moment. “I love you, Ratchet.”

Ratchet slid his servo behind his helm and brushed his intake with a soft kiss. “I love you too,” he whispered.

Orion leaned back in to recapture his lips before he had a chance pull away. It was incredible, he thought, that even following the intensity of a sparkmerge, each tiny kiss could still make his spark whirl with delight.

_Because it was Ratchet._

After a third and fourth kiss, Ratchet pulled back and held a digit to Orion's lips. Orion kissed it and Ratchet laughed. “We should get some recharge,” he said. “It's been a long few solar cycles, and you have another big one ahead tomorrow.”

Right, Vector Sigma. Orion nodded. His HUD was pinging him with a critical energy warning; he'd been so caught up he'd failed to notice it. He was exhausted, he realized.

Ratchet climbed off his lap to let him lie down, then moved in beside him, resting his helm on Orion's upper arm. Orion rolled to his side so he was facing him and settled a servo on his waist. To be able to lie here like this with him, frames touching and fields entangled, their very sparks intertwined with the gentle resonance of the sparkbond… It was better than he could put into words.

He kissed him again, slow and lazy, more just extended contact than anything with energy behind it.

He wasn't afraid for what was to come the next morning. Not anymore. Feeling his other identity as he had through the merge wasn't the same as remembering it himself, just an echo of an echo, but it was more than enough. He was, and could be, Optimus Prime. _He could do this._

Saturated with the warmth of Ratchet's presence and his newfound confidence, he drifted off, letting recharge take him.

 

* * *

 

A gentle pressure at the corner of his intake stirred him, and he onlined his optics to see Ratchet smiling down at him. Primus, if this was his life now, he could definitely get used to it.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, voice prickly with recharge-induced static.

Ratchet's smile widened. “It's nearly midday, but likewise.”

“What?” He checked his chronometer, frowning.

“Your energy readings were still low enough this morning that I decided not to wake you. Did you recharge at all when you were with the Decepticons?”

He had, but not as much as he should have, and not well. He'd been haunted by thoughts of Ratchet, and distracted by his conflict over the bond. He admitted as much, and Ratchet nodded.

“Understandable.” He found his servo and squeezed it. “I lost more than a few joors myself worrying about you. But you're feeling a bit better now, I hope.”

Indeed he was. He sat up, and Ratchet helped him to his feet. “Let's go join the others.”

They walked side by side in companionable silence through the halls, returning to the same larger room where he'd arrived through the ground bridge.

The native called “Miko” jumped up the moment she saw him. “Hey, it's Sleeping Beauty, finally!”

Orion stared at her, baffled. “What?”

“Oh, it's, uh, from a story about a princess who was asleep for a hundred years, until she was woken up by true love's kiss,” she explained. “Because you were asleep for a long time.”

“I see. Part of that reference is accurate,” he said, glancing at Ratchet with a smile.

“Well,” Ratchet looked away, embarrassment coloring his field. “He needed the recharge.”

The other bots had begun to gather around them. Their fields were bright with excitement and curiosity, and Orion couldn't help but feel curious as well. Would this Vector Sigma really be able to restore his memories? How?

“You ready?” Ratchet asked.

Orion ran a full vent cycle to cool his nerves, and nodded. “I am.”

“Jack?” Ratchet turned to the native in question.

Jack stepped forward, and held up a small but elaborate Cybertronian key. It began to vibrate with a low hum, and a beam of light streamed towards him, aiming directly into the center of his chassis. Before he could send the command to his chestplates to open, they slid aside of their own accord, and the light hit his spark.

Information flooded him so abruptly that his vision went white. Lifetimes of wisdom poured into his drives in the span of nanoklicks, sections of his neural net rerouting to reference them faster than his processors could follow.

At the same time, his own memories of the past millions of years he'd missed streamed back into place. New codes that had formed to fill the gaps over the past solar cycles were uprooted to make room for the old ones, and conflicting sections were overwritten. A string of error messages appeared in his short term memory processor and he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

Optimus's systems onlined slowly. The first thing he noticed was a field—several fields—pressed around him in concern. Ratchet was there. He relaxed before his processor even had time to acknowledge the realization.

Then he remembered where he'd been _before_ and his spark rate jumped.

“Ratchet?” He looked around in search of his bondmate, refocusing his optics until the world around him began to clear. “What… what happened? Is Unicron—?”

“Sealed, yes.”

Oh, thank Primus. He sat up with a groan, pressing a servo against his helm in effort to counter his massive processor ache. He felt as though an army of scraplets had gotten inside his brain module, chewed through his hard drives, and spat them back out.

There was something else, too. “I had… some sort of dream,” he began as it started to come back to him. “I was with Megatron?” He looked at Ratchet, optics wide. “And he told me you were…”

“It was no dream.” Ratchet's optics drifted to a spot on his pauldron. Optimus twisted to look.

Oh.

His memory of his time on board the _Nemesis_ was hazy at best, scattered bits dislodged in his processor like a recharge fantasy. But the Decepticon brand etched into his plating told him it was very real. Had he helped Megatron? How much? Had he revealed anything sensitive to the Decepticons?

Ratchet's field pulsed a soothing frequency, and he stepped closer to place a servo on his forearm. “The time you were gone was truly our darkest hour, but I can say with certainty that your spark never ceased being that of an Autobot.” He smiled, and Optimus couldn't help but smile back.

“We're glad you're home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand done! Oh my god this is so exciting.
> 
> Edit: I made a mini [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwGuyxKJ4ayQcrPAiT4PGo-5oGHLlA_4E) for this fic. :D

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic I'm yelling! Well, since the handful of <1k word stuff I posted on ff.net back in like 2013. This is LITERALLY the most I've ever written, including the science/history research papers I did back in high school.
> 
> I'm an incredibly slow writer, and this has like... eaten up weeks of my summer break. I'm about maybe 65% done on chapter 2. Hopefully I should be able to finish it soon? We'll see how well I can wrangle my ADHD brain into working efficiently.


End file.
